


One of These Days

by AmandaPandapple



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Jessica Moore - Freeform, M/M, Sam Winchester - Freeform, There will be Porn, a lot of fluff, practically, practically everyone is in this, sam winchester/jessica moore - Freeform, slow pacing porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:57:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaPandapple/pseuds/AmandaPandapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean makes coffins for a living - family business - and he falls in love with a christian man who struggles with his acceptance of his homosexuality, and whose brothers and sisters are beginning to die off one by one. Castiel is afraid his time will come very soon. Dean builds every coffin for Castiel's siblings, dreading one day he'll have to make one for Castiel, but hoping they'll be much older when his time arrives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of These Days

"Dean! Sam! The wood's in! Take it to the back!" John yelled, as he signed papers for the delivery guy. The 21 year old, Dean Winchester jogged up to a large cart and rolled it up to the truck stacked full of wood they had ordered. His 17 year old brother, Sam came a few seconds later.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean hurried him.

"I was doing my homework, jeez." Sam spat. Dean never liked his brother's harsh tone, even if he didn't mean it. They dragged the large slabs of wood off the truck one by one onto the cart. They knew it would take about three trips with all the wood they ordered and one cart. John, the brothers' father, didn't help them. He supervised as his boys put the wood away in the back. John didn't praise his boys as much as they would have liked. Dean looked up to his father in every way. Sam on the other hand didn't much like the bossing around his father did. At least, that's how he saw it. Dean saw it as getting the job done.

"Alright, Dean clean up, and Sam, get to bed, you have school in the morning." John ordered. Sam rolled his eyes annoyed, and stomped off. Dean sighed watching Sam, and looked to his father.

"He's just tired, dad." Dean tried to assure him with a smile.

"If that's the case, he's tired 24/7." John joked, but a laugh wasn't heard. Dean watched his father's shoulder slump.

"He does love you, dad." Dean said. He didn't like to see his family like this. He did everything he could to make sure his family was happy, but it was hard to do so when the youngest was rebellious.

"Clean up, and go to bed." John ordered softly, and left the supply room. Dean looked around for the broom, and started sweeping the floor. Dean usually cleaned up before bed. He usually did a lot of the work for the business. Once Dean was finished sweeping all the rooms, he walked out of the shop and down the street a ways where him, Sam, and John lived. It was a small house, but it fit them just fine. All but the kitchen light was off. Dean walked straight to the kitchen to see Sam at the dining table with his laptop and books all over.

"Sam, dad said to go to bed." Dean reminded him.

"So? I have a paper due tomorrow." Sam retorted.

Dean's eyes widened, "The same one?" Sam nodded. "You've been working on that thing for weeks. I thought you'd have it done already." Dean said, walking over to the fridge.

"I would have if it wasn't for dad keeping me at the shop all the time." Sam glared down at his laptop. Dean grabbed a can of beer, and sat at the chair next to his brother.

"You know we need help in the shop. You never even made a schedule with him. You just yell at him all the time." Dean argued, opening the beer and taking a long swig.

"Whatever. When I graduate, I'm gone." Sam smiled, typing a little faster.

"Gone? Where're you gonna go? You don't have any money." Dean chuckled.

"I've been saving some, but that's not how I'm getting out of here." Sam said, now glaring at Dean.

"Then how?" Dean took another sip of his beer, waiting for his brother to answer, but Sam was hesitant to tell him. He even looked nervous.

"You can't tell him, Dean."

"Tell who what?"

"You just can't, okay? I'll tell him, but not right now." Sam begged, and Dean realized they were talking about their father. Dean would have normally laughed at his little brother, but Sam's eyes were really begging him. The younger Winchester really didn't want their father to know.

Dean sat up straighter, "Alright. I won't tell him." He promised. Sam got up and hurried over to the living room where it led down the hall with the bedrooms. Sam shortly came back holding a white envelop. Dean looked to it as it had obviously been ripped open viciously, and looked up at Sam standing there with a mix of emotions on his face. He forced the envelop in Dean's direction, and Dean took it with care. He turned the envelop face up to read it. It was addressed to Sam, but it was not their house address. Dean looked to the corner of the envelop.

"Stanford University?" Dean questioned, but Sam didn't reply. Dean took the papers out of the envelop and read it quietly to himself, but he didn't get too far before he was smiling bright.

"Sammy, this is awesome!" Dean exclaimed, jumping up and bouncing over to his young brother. It was a letter of acceptance into a big law school.

"Wait, you're happy about this?" Sam asked, as Dean grabbed him into a tight hug.

"Of course I am, and I know dad will too." Dean smiled, pulling his brother away to look at him.

"No, he won't. You can't tell him, Dean." Sam frowned.

"Sam, he'll be proud. Why wouldn't he be happy?" Dean asked.

"He won't like me leaving you two to do all the work in the shop. He doesn't care about school. I want to be a lawyer, not a coffin carpenter in Oregon." Sam exasperated, as he flopped back into his chair. Dean paused a moment to watch his brother quickly get back into typing his paper.

"A lawyer? You never told me that." He stated.

"I don't tell you everything, Dean." Sam replied.

"Why not? You used to tell me everything. I'm your big brother." Dean retorted, sitting back in his chair.

"Because you tell dad everything." The younger Winchester said, without really paying attention to his brother.

"I wouldn't have if you told me not to." Dean mumbled, sitting back in his chair and playing with his nails. Sam glanced over at his brother, but Dean noticed. Dean didn't want to talk any further into this. He wasn't good with talking about his feelings. He could never get his words right. Dean stood from the table.

"Try not to be up too late. Night, Sam." He said, picking his soda up and going to the living room.

Dean paused a moment in the archway of the living room, "Sam?" Sam looked over at his big brother, "He's already proud of you. Just give him a chance." Dean said, before going off to bed.

**~~~**

**Seven Years Later**

Dean awoke to the sun illuminating his room. He didn't have an alarm schedule to follow. He just woke up when he felt like it and went to work, mostly because he focused so much in his work, he'd forget to take breaks. Dean, also, wasn't one of those people to go back to sleep when they woke up. Once he was awake, he was up. So, that made it hard when he'd wake in the middle of the night for either no reason, or a nightmare. Nightmare more than none.

Dean sighed, turning his head on his lumpy pillow to grab and see the time on his black wristwatch laying on the nightstand. 10:27am. Normal working people would consider this to be late in the morning to be sleeping, but again, Dean didn't use a 'corrective' working schedule. Dean threw the blankets off of himself and slid to sitting at the end of his oversize bed. It was quiet in the house, not too normal.

"Zep!" Dean shouted to his cracked open door. He smiled the first time that morning as he heard the jogging nails tapping on the wood floors and a metal jingle getting louder as it got closer. A Belgian Malinois dog with a blue collar nudged the crack of the door open further, while his whole body wiggle in excitement. They are a cousin breed to the German Shepherd.

"Hey, Zep. Where were you?" Dean asked, as the dog sat right at Dean's feet so his master could scratch behind his ears and pet him. Once Dean finished showing the Malinois affection, Zep nudged his nose under the back of Dean's knees.

"Alright, I'm up. If you're so hungry, you should have woken me up earlier." Dean chuckled, patting Zep and getting up to use the bathroom. Zep followed and sat at the doorway to wait for Dean to finish. Dean had managed to teach Zep a few tricks, and one of them was he wasn't allowed in certain rooms. Before Dean disciplined Zep, the Malinois would come in the bathroom and almost trip Dean, and even jumped in the shower when Dean was using it. So, now, Zep sat just outside the doorway, tail wagging in anticipation for his owner to either allow him in, or come out.

"Come on, boy." Dean encouraged, as he left the bathroom and Zep led the way to the kitchen. Zep was 5 years old, and even though he was a medium sized doc, he was still easy to trip on. Dean had to learn to stay out of the dog's way when he was a little over excited. Dean firstly opened the back door to let Zep run off a little of his energy before making his breakfast.

"Go on, boy." Dean said, patting Zep on his black and light brown back, and the Malinois ran. Dean chuckled as he picked up Zep's bowl off the floor next to the dinning room table, and washed it in the sink. He took one step to the left to open one of the cabinets where Zep's can of food was kept. He then moved back to open the drawer for the can opener. Zep started barking outside at strangers passing by, but he wasn't doing it to warn them off like other dogs. He did it because he was letting Dean know someone was there. He did that when someone was at the front door.

"Zep! Food's up!" Dean shouted out to him, and the Malinois came running in as Dean quickly placed the bowl down. Zep ate quickly like he hadn't been fed in days, but that's how he always was. When he was a small puppy he would whine to Dean for more and more food all the time. Dean sighed as he turned around to the fridge to make his own breakfast, only when he looked in the fridge, he got a heavy lazy feeling.

"Zep, guard the house." Dean ordered his dog, but Zep didn't move away from eating his food. Dean knew the dog understood what to do though. Dean went back into his room to remove his clothes to take a shower. A nice warm shower was the best part of his mornings, even though he got one at night before bed as well. It wasn't that he was obsessed with keeping clean, it was just a shower was the only time he really got to relax. He heard Zep barking again, but ignored it seeing as he was already in the shower. He then heard Zep's barking much louder and closer.

"What is it, boy?" Dean asked as he washed the shampoo out of his short hair. Zep gave another bark. This time Dean knew he was barking because someone was at the door. Dean didn't know anyone that would come by his house this early or today, so Dean supposed it was the mailman. Dean finished his shower and saw Zep wasn't sitting there anymore. He quickly dressed in jeans, a black t shirt, a long sleeve green shirt open with the sleeves rolled up, and dark brown boots. He also had a necklace around his neck that he never removed. It was given to him by his brother when they were young, and it was very special to him. Dean went back into the bathroom to brush his teeth, shave, and run some gel through his hair to make the front stand up. He made his way to the kitchen to close the back door.

"Zep!" He called, but heard the dog coming up behind him, so he closed the door and locked it.

"Let's go." He smiled to his dog, and Zep went running to the front door. As Dean followed, he grabbed his father's worn leather jacket to pull on. He opened the door for Zep to run out, and grabbed his keys before leaving. Zep ran around in the front yard. Zep didn't need a leash when they walked together. Dean taught him not to run off, but Zep wouldn't really want to anyway. The Malinois and Dean were much too close. They had been through a lot in the past 4 years. Zep would never run away. Dean would have taken his car, but he wanted to walk with Zep today. Dean checked the mailbox, finding mostly bills, and junk mail. Zep started to trot down the street to the shop because that's what they did nearly every morning.

"Zep! This way, boy." Dean called, as he put the mail back in the mailbox, and went along walking down the road with Zep running to catch up. Zep then realized they were going into town and walked a little passed Dean. It was a weekend in the Fall, so children were outside playing, and Zep would run up to them to get their attention. Dean smiled at the children petting and running with Zep.

"Hey, Mr. Winchester!" A little girl waved, and he waved back. Dean never really got hellos from the children, but every now and then there would be a kid who didn't know what the other children knew, or they didn't care. A small boy came up to the little girl that waved and whispered into her ear. Dean knew he was telling her not to talk to him, and other rumors, but most were true. Dean didn't really keep up with the horrible things that children would say.

"Come on, Zep." Dean called. Zep stopped licking on a little boy's face, and went to walk alongside his owner.

"Some kids are just mean, Zep." Dean sighed to the Malinois. The dog only understood his name as he looked up, but Dean found comfort in the dog's look and heavy breathing. Dean imagined Zep to be saying 'I love you' with the way he jumped a little for a pat on the head. They were nearing the main part of town, and more people were around. It was mostly people shopping or working.

"Morning, Dean."

"Hey, Mr. Tanner." Dean waved to a man just coming out of his fish shop. Dean looked both ways before crossing the street, but cars were hardly driven in this town. It wasn't too small. A population of a little over 2 thousand, but small enough for there not to be too much clutter. People knew people, but not everyone of course. Zep followed right next to Dean when crossing streets. Dean taught him that too. Never cross the street without his owner. Dean feared of losing Zep, so safety rules were taught early.

"Dean." A girl of 19 greeted with a smile as she exited out of a flower shop.

"Hey, Claire." Dean nodded. Zep barked to get her attention.

"Hey, Zep." Claire patted the nudging dog at her leg, "What're you two doing here? I figured you'd be at your shop." She asked Dean.

"Can't a guy get some breakfast?" Dean joked.

"Not if it's 11 in the morning," She chuckled, looking at her watch, "This is brunch."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Well, it's not passed noon, so it's breakfast to me." He shrugged. Claire picked a white carnation from a bucket full of them, and got a pair of scissors out of her apron to cut it shorter. She pulled Dean's leather jacket back and placed the carnation in the top pocket of his long sleeve shirt.

"You have a nice breakfast, Dean." Claire smiled, and went around to the big flower display to pick out the dying flowers. Dean smiled to her, but Zep's barking got him back to focus on where he was going. When Dean turned around, Zep wasn't there, and a panic started to set in his stomach.

"Zep!" Dean called, but he got nothing. He started to walk up the sidewalk to his original destination to see if Zep went there, but he wasn't seeing his dog.

"Zep!" Dean called again, still nothing. People were beginning to look at him.

"Hey, Dean. What's going on?" An older lady asked.

"Hey, Mrs. Franklin. Um, have you seen my dog?" He asked.

"Zep? Sure. He went right up to Hurley's shop." She smiled.

"Thanks." Dean said, and ran up the sidewalk. Dean had taught Zep not to wander off unless Dean said a trigger word that meant it was alright for him to roam around, but it wasn't said. Also, Zep's weakness was Mr. Hurley's meat shop, so Dean wasn't too surprised. Dean burst in the door to see Zep sitting just at the counter as Mr. Hurley tossed bits of meat to him to eat.

"Zeppelin! Here. Now." Dean ordered harshly, and pointed to his side. Zep lowered his head, tucked his tail, and sluggishly walked over to Dean's side and sat. Zep looked up at Dean with droopy eyes.

"Don't look at me like that." Dean ordered, and Zep bowed his head.

"Hey, Dean. Don't be so hard on him." Mr. Hurley told him with a smile.

"Stay." Dean commanded Zep, and walked over to Mr. Hurley.

"He's gotta learn." Dean sighed, "What were you feeding him?"

"Just some scraps from earlier." Mr. Hurley answered, pointing behind him at the counter with a pile of cut fat off of some steaks. Dean looked back at Zep, still with his head bowed to the floor. Dean sighed, and turned back to Mr. Hurley.

"You mind if I take all that off your hands?" Dean asked, keeping his voice down. Mr. Hurley chuckled, and gave a wink.

"I'm gonna go eat first. I'll come after to get them." Dean let him know.

"Sure. I'll save them." Mr. Hurley promised.

"Come on, Zep." Dean said, without too much harshness. Zep stayed a step behind Dean, still with his head low as they made there way to Singer's Diner. Dean looked to Zep and sighed.

"Come're, boy. Sit." Dean said, and the dog did as told. Dean knelt down to face him, and lovingly grabbed him by the ears to scratch him.

"You know not to run off like that unless I say so. I got really worried. Don't scare me like that again." Dean said to his Melinois. Zep got closer and placed his head on Dean's shoulder.

"I love you too, boy." Dean said, hugging Zep back, "Come on. Let's go." Zep stood back for Dean to stand up. Zep was in a much better mood. He walked ahead of Dean and sniffed at people that passed. Dean really loved Zep. He never thought a dog could mean so much to him, but it was that dog that was there to help him get through the hardest of times.

"Zep." Dean called. They had arrived at the diner.

"I'm gonna be in here. So, adios." Dean smiled, and Zep licked Dean's arm before running off. Zep wagged his tail as he wandered off, up the sidewalk to explore. This trick took a while for the both of them, but with enough patients, Dean managed to teach Zep that he could wander off in town, and come home when he was done. Dean sighed as he opened the door to the diner and stepped in. No one greeted him at first. He took a seat at the bar a side the kitchen window.

"Dean Winchester. Shouldn't you be at your daddy's shop right now?" A 50's something man said. Dean looked over his shoulder.

"It's been my shop for 4 years now, Mr. Blakeley. You know that." Dean replied.

"That's right. So, why don't you make other things. I know you can." A woman said that must have been a decade older than Dean sitting a few seats away from him.

"That's not why I do it, Gina." Dean sighed, and wished to just order his food already.

"Did I just hear Dean Winchester in my diner?" A woman shouted from in the kitchen. The kitchen door swung open and out came a 46 year old blonde woman with a dirty apron tide around her neck and waist. She hurried over to Dean, and he braced himself as he was pulled into a tight hug over the counter.

"Hey, Karen." Dean smiled.

"I don't see you much anymore. Where have you been?" Karen Singer asked.

"Busy at the shop. Just felt like coming to get some breakfast." Dean shrugged.

"Well, what do you want? I'll cook it specially myself." She smiled bright handing him a menu. He went to the breakfast section and sighed.

"I'll have the Usual." He decided.

Karen frowned a little at him, "That all, pumpkin?" Dean nodded, "Drink?" She asked.

"Coffee." He answered.

"Alright, darlin'. It'll be out in a few minutes." Karen smiled, placing a mug in front of him and poured coffee into it.

"Thanks, Karen." Dean grinned back, and opened some sugar and creamer packets to dump in his coffee. Karen went back into the kitchen and got to cooking Dean's breakfast. Dean pulled his cell phone out of his leather jacket and saw there were text messages and missed calls. Dean sighed, and looked to see all of them were from Sam. They lived on different schedules. Dean knew not to text or call Sam unless it was at night, because that's a good time when he was free. Sam could really call Dean whenever.

One of the texts that caught his eye was Sam telling him that he was moving in with his girlfriend. Dean smiled to this. He was glad Sam was happy at college. Sam had a life he'd always wanted, and Dean was incredibly jealous. All Dean ever wanted was his family to be together, but all he had was a broken one. Dean closed his phone and carefully sipped his coffee.

He didn't like to be reminded of the past, but no matter what he did he could never escape it. Dean looked down the bar to see the diner was at its regular speed capacity. Sunday's were always a pretty good day for business at Singer's Diner. Dean looked back to his coffee and wished it would make him feel better. It wasn't too long till Karen was back with his plate of eggs, bacon, butter toast, and sausage. This was literally called The Usual on the menu.

"You sure that's all you want?" Karen asked.

"Yeah." Dean sighed with a smile, "Thanks, Karen." She gripped Dean's hand in hers with comfort, and went back into the kitchen. Dean pulled his leather jacket off, and began to eat his breakfast, thinking that this was more like lunch. He was actually glad he came to Singer's Diner for breakfast. He needed to visit people in the town to show them he was still alive, but at the same time, he didn't like seeing most of them with their judging looks or fake smiles. Karen was one of those people that actually cared, so was Claire, and a handful of others. Dean wasn't one to express his depressing emotions in a healthy manor. He just bottled it all up, and drank alcohol. So, Dean took his flask out of his leather jacket and spiked his coffee to help ease the day. Before Dean finished up his breakfast, Karen came out of the kitchen with a blueberry pie slice.

"It's fresh, and on the house." She smiled.

"Thanks." He smiled back. Dean loved pie, and Karen usually gave it to him for free. When he finished, he set down the right amount of money and a fifteen dollar tip for Karen. He grabbed his leather jacket, and walked out quicker than he expected to. As he exited the door and pulled his jacket on simultaneously, he bumped into a man about his height. Dean noticed the man losing his balance, and caught his arm to help him steady.

"Ah, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" Dean asked, with a friendly smile.

"Yes, I'm fine. Are you alright?" The man asked. He had a much rougher voice than Dean anticipated, and it took him a moment to realize he was still holding the man's arm before he let go. The man stood tall, being almost the same height as Dean, and tugging his suit jacket a little straighter. He had a scruffiness to his jaw, and a spikiness to his hair that was a little messy, but also looked just in place. They finally caught eyes, and Dean was struck hard by how blue the man's eyes were.

"I'm sorry about your flower. I seem to have crushed it." The man said, nodding to the white carnation still in Dean's pocket. It was now a little wilted and smushed, but hardly from him bumping into the man.

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's been in there a while. Um, not to be rude or anything, but what's up with the suit?" Dean asked, genuinely curious as to why this man was wearing a suit in the middle of a smallish town.

"Just got out of church-"

"Ah. That's right. It's Sunday. I gotta run. Enjoy your lunch." Dean smiled, holding the door open for the man.

"Thank you. You have a nice day." The man smiled back. Dean sighed with a smile after he let the door close. He had never seen the man in this town before. Dean wondered if he was a visiting relative. Either way, Dean needed to hurry back to the shop and finish up an order. Before he got too far down the street, he remembered to pick up the scraps from Mr. Hurley for Zep. Dean entered Mr. Hurley's meat shop and a small crowd was inside ordering meat. Dean supposed they were getting meat for dinner tonight. Mr. Hurley noticed Dean and nodded to him.

"I'll take $15, Winchester." Mr. Hurley shouted to him. Dean fished out $15 and went to the counter with the wrapped up scrap of meat. Scott - Hurley's younger worker - handed Dean the scraps and Dean handed him the money.

"Thanks, Hurley." Dean waved, as he walked out of the meat shop. Dean got down to the end of the street, and just before he rounded the corner, he looked around if just by chance he'd see Zep, but he didn't, so he went on to the shop without him. The children weren't playing outside in the front yard anymore. Dean checked his wrist watch to see it was 2:00pm. Not too much needed to go into the order, but he did need to start on the next one in order to ship it out next week. As Dean passed his house, he fished for his keys in his leather jacket. It wasn't directly next door, but just down the road was a lone shop. It was significantly big with a truck drop off in the back where the warehouse was. The warehouse and drop off were hidden away by tall trees to keep the shop the main focal point.

Dean singled out one of the keys to open the front door. The white wooden sign outside the shop in a deep green read 'Winchester Coffins since 1936'. The shop matched the sign colors; all white with a deep green trim. His mother had picked the paint and decorative scheme, and he didn't have a designer bone in his body to update the place.

The curtains in the windows were white lace inside, and colorful flowers bloomed just under and outside them. The porch held a few rocking chairs that Dean remembered his family sitting at on occasions. Inside, the smell of fresh rich wood stung his nostrils, but it wasn't irritating. There was no register counter like in normal shops because this wasn't like an ordinary shop. People came in to buy coffins, but it was mostly a place to make the coffins. The shop had display coffins sitting about in the front room. Dean looked around to see he forgot to dust them last night before going home.

Before going to the back, Dean closed and locked the front door. He didn't know who would do it, but he began locking the door from people maybe coming in and stealing the coffins. Dean had installed a type of doorbell to the front door that rang in every room in the back of the shop. A sign was above it saying, 'Press for assistance'. It was simple, and it really did work. Since Dean worked in the shop alone, if he was working on a coffin in the back, it was impossible to hear anything in the front shop.

The hallway leading to the real shop was a bit long. Dean singled out another key to open a door leading to the kitchen. He placed Zep's meat scraps in the fridge, and left. He then singled out a different key and opened the last door in the hall revealing the wide open, almost warehouse, type of building. 'Room' would be too small a word for how big it was.

Dean went to his left to the glossing room, which was only blocked in by sheets of plastic hanging from the ceiling. Inside was an almost finished coffin. It just needed one more glossing job, and then the bedding would be glued inside, and the handles screwed in on the sides. Coffins could be glossed or painted, depending on the customer's preference. They were all basically made of oak or elm. Special orders were made from more expensive wood of the customer's choice, but not when it came to his small town. Not many people could afford it, so, Dean made them from the two regularly priced choice.

His business was good to the locals, and even non locals who just needed a coffin. Even if some couldn't make the payment, Dean would work with them to come to a reasonable price for them. And if there were completely poor clients who needed a coffin that day, he'd make them out of pressed pine wood. The ones made from the other, more expensive woods, were orders from out of town and country.

When Sam got older, he made an online website for the company so the clients from out of town and country could order their coffins easier than sending a letter or calling. Dean had to change the site around and advise the clientele that the orders had to be months in advance. He was having a hard time keeping up with the orders. There was a time he was working on three coffins at once, and if it wasn't for Zep's constant barking, he would have forgotten to feed his dog and himself. Dean did consider hiring, but no one wanted to work in a coffin carpenter shop. Everyone thought it was too eerie, but to Dean it was a family business. Plus, no one had the skill.

Dean shed himself of his leather jacket, and sighed as he stepped into his work uniform and pushed his arms into the sleeves before zipping it up. He then pulled on his gas mask, and turn on the glossing motor. He knew by the time this coffin dried, he would have the bedding sewn, stuffed, and ready to be glued in the coffin.

After glossing, Dean went and sat himself in the sewing room. He already had the measurements written on a paper and taped to the sewing machine. He turned his radio on, and pushed play from the Lynyrd Skynyrd tape inside. He really wished Sam or his mother were there to sew. Sam taught him how, of course, but it didn't make it anymore enjoyable. It was almost a blessing when a poor client came in only wanting a thin pine coffin.

Dean sighed as he laid the white silk fabric out on the table to cut the correct measurements. Dean must have nicked and pricked himself 20 times with scissors and needles as he sewed. This was what he hated about sewing, the little cuts and jabs. Dean sighed as four hours passed of him sewing and stuffing the bedding. When he finally finished, he stretched and rubbed his eyes.

"I need a break." Dean thought aloud, but didn't take one. He picked the bedding up and went to the glossing room. The gloss was perfectly dry to the touch. Dean placed the bedding inside and dipped the paint brush in the super glue up to slowly glue the bedding along the sides. After finishing gluing the inside of the lid, Dean noticed his hands shaking and his head getting light. The gloss was still in the air and affecting him. Dean exited the gloss room and out to the nearest door. He breathed in deep the outside air, and saw a few dogs running around in the open field behind the shop. He saw Zep among them and thought he brought the dogs here to play.

Once Dean got his sea legs back, he went back inside to screw in the four handles. He smiled at his finished product and wheeled it to the packaging room. He let it sit in the room for a while longer, since the room was cooler, before wrapping it up for the shipping truck could take it away. Dean had called, letting them know he had a shipment needing to be picked up. He looked to the clock to see he had been working for five and a half hours. He didn't even think about taking a break. He needed to start on the next order. He didn't want to have to pull an all nighter.


End file.
